Never Die
by The Brat Prince
Summary: Stan Marsh moved away from South Park when he was barely eleven. Now he finds himself at Park County High, where Kyle and Kenny are best friends, and almost lovers. He and Kyle instantly click, creating a rift between the two friends. Slash and angst.
1. I'm Just The Trouble That You Need

**Never Die**

_Chapter One: I'm Just The Trouble That You Need_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Okay, so YET another new story, and this one really annoys me because it was five pages of perfection until my hard drive crashed. Originally this was called Every Sinner Has a Future, but it seemed like a long, unflowy title. I really can't think of anything better right now. Plus it's definitely going to be considerably shorter. I can't remember the first three pages, and I'm too lazy to sit around and wait for inspiration to strike once more. That might take forever. Anyway, this is slash. This is, like everything else I write, style and k squared. So I present to you…this. Please review.

* * *

They sat by the edge of Stark's Pond. Kenny was stretched out across one of the picnic tables unstably balanced on the frozen ground. Welcome to South Park, the only place that still had frost in late August. He was laying in at least an inch of lacework snow, his parka vest unzipped, leaving only a thin t-shirt to guard him from the cold. Kenny never seemed to mind the chill.

His knee was in Kyle's face, the pale skin visible through a rip in his threadbare jeans. A silver, engraved flask the Jewish boy had inherited from his grandfather sat on Kenny's stomach.

"It burns so good," the blond boy moaned, his hair forming a halo against the table and the snow.

"You're an alcoholic."

"You're just jealous because I had two shots more than you."

"There were barely three shots in that thing," Kyle told him, resting his head against Kenny's knee. He felt the other boy shrug with his entire body.

"Exactly. And I had two of them."

"Who are you showing off for?"

"You," Kenny laughed, "It's always you."

Kyle reddened, but didn't say anything. This was their annual pregame the school year party. A party of two, just like it had always been. This was the last one they'd have; they were going to be seniors, starting tomorrow.

"You're such a dick."

Kenny nudged Kyle's head with his knee, ignoring the insult, "This year's going to rock. We're going to be kings."

"You're going to be a king," Kyle corrected with a small smile, his eyes watching the stillness of the Pond.

"Nah, not without you," Kenny was watching the stars, the way they burned bright and clear above his head. This is why they would pregame here. It was quiet. It was beautiful. No one would interrupt them.

"You're delusional. Kenny, you're like one of the most popular kids in school. I'm…a mathlete."

"A very cool mathlete."

"Well, that's a given," Kyle replied good-humouredly.

"Anyway, you're playing up the nerd card too much. Everyone knows you're on the basketball team, no matter how hard you try to hide it. All the girls love basketball stars," Kenny teased.

"Basketball here is like playing ice hockey in fucking Southern California. People think it's a weird sport. Dad wishes I played football."

"Your dad does not," the blond protested, eyes still trained on the stars, "He's terrified of football players."

"That's true."

Kenny shifted, inching his body down onto the bench, next to Kyle. He leaned his head on the redhead's shoulder, "I want things to change this year."

"Change?" Kyle asked, "Why would you want that?"

Kenny turned. His icy blue eyes danced with mischief, "No reason."

There was a reason. A really good reason, actually. Both of them felt the tension that shimmered between them. Neither would close the space. Kenny had been patient. For four years, he'd been patient. Now he'd run out of time. Kyle knew it too. One of them was going to snap, and soon. It was a game they played, over and over again. Who would be the first to give?

Kenny smiled. Kyle returned it. They had time. The entirety of senior year lay out ahead of them. Nothing was going to mess it up. One of them would cave, one of them would say those three words that they conveyed in stolen glances and small, friendly touches. It would happen. Kenny was prepared to wait.

"Maybe a new kid will transfer in," he piped up, "Or we'll get a new teacher."

"Who transfers in senior year?" Kyle rolled his eyes, "You're on crack."

"You're just jealous that I didn't share."

Kyle sighed, "You really want me to be jealous, don't you?"

"I just want you to pay attention to me," Kenny replied lightly, jumping to his feet, "Is it working?"

"You're my best friend, Kenny. I never pay attention to anything but you."

"I know. That's the way I like it."

Kyle laughed. School would start tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow would be the day.

Or maybe something would change.

* * *

A/N: Incredibly short, I know. Man, my chapter naming system is getting seriously messed up by all the Hindi music I have on my computer. Soon enough I'm just going to give in and find the English translations for some songs, and we're going to have chapters named things like 'For Your Love I'll Die' and 'You're My Unquenched Thirst'. Yeah. These songs sound great till you translate them. Then they're just corny. I really miss those five pages. Oh well. Review, please and thank you.


	2. Hair Done Up, Black Holes Painted On You

**Never Die**

_Chapter Two: Hair Done Up, Black Holes Painted On Your Eyes_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews on the first chapter. I was astounded. Alright, so this chapter is much more boring. It focuses mostly on Stan. Don't worry. It's short. We're going back to Kenny and Kyle and more interesting happenings in the next one. However, if you don't like Stan much, I warn you now that he features prominently in the story. I know I've had people tell me they hate Stan for some of my other stories, and I'm like…but I said he was part of the story in the summary…? So just in case, let me clarify that this will be both style and k squared. BOTH. And it will feature some Stan x Kenny lovin' as well, although it definitely won't end with that. But yeah. I love Stan. So…I can't NOT have him in the story! Ugh, I'm babbling. Time to post and go to bed.

* * *

Moving back to Park County was the worst thing Stan's parents had ever done to him. Ever. He slammed a duffel bag down onto the bed his dad and Uncle Jimbo had set up in the advance move. Stan, his mom, and his older sister had only just finished packing up the rest of their stuff this week. They'd spent the three hour ride back to South Park in uncomfortable silence until his mom snapped and put on some oldies station that warbled in and out with the signal.

That had been last night. Now he was supposed to get up and get ready for a school he didn't even want to go to, and he couldn't FIND anything. Boxes were scattered all around his room, full of useless memories and ill fitting clothes. He'd spent all morning searching for the damned bag, and had only just found in the downstairs bathroom. Who the hell had put it there?

The house they'd moved to wasn't the one he'd lived in back when he was young, but he could barely tell the difference. His memories of his childhood home were vague, and besides, all the homes in this damned town looked the same.

Sighing, Stan collapsed on his bed beside the duffel bag, his fingers scraping over the zipper and yanking it open. He rifled around inside, searching out a single piece of paper. There, he felt it, crinkling in the palm of his hand.

It was a letter. A letter from the girl he had liked. A letter from the girl he still liked. A letter from that girl, telling him that they wouldn't work out because chances were, they'd never see each other again. He'd only just gotten her to agree to go on a date with him when he found out he was moving. When he told her, she visibly deflated. She flat out said that it would work. Stan tried telling her that three hours wasn't that far; he'd still be in Colorado after all. She refused.

She couldn't even do it in person. She'd written him this fucking letter.

"Stan," there was a tentative knock on the door. He ignored it.

"Stan," his mother's voice came at him again, "Are you ready for school? I have to drive you today so we can get your papers in order."

What senior in high school got driven to their first day of school by their mom? God.

"Alright," he called back angrily, his voice cracking. This was her fault. She just had to go and get a job transfer because she 'missed home'. This place wasn't home. It was hell.

Stan had lost everything because of her. It wasn't just the girl. It was his friends. His best friends in the entire world, who right now were probably sitting in the cafeteria at his old high school thinking up some magnificent new trick to play on their math teacher. Then later on, there would be baseball practice, and Stan Marsh, the star pitcher, would be missing.

His mother was a selfish bitch.

And his father was a bastard for agreeing to the move in the first place.

Stan shredded the letter to pieces, watching them fall from his hands into the otherwise empty plastic garbage can in the corner of his room. He pulled on a black hoodie and stomped downstairs. If either of his parents thought he was being moody, they didn't show it. They knew exactly how he felt about this move. They knew he thought they'd ruined his life.

He sounded like a teenager in some horrible drama. He didn't care. All he wanted was to go back to his real house, in his real town, where he could have a real life.

"Stan, don't you want to fix your hair before you leave?"

"What's wrong with my hair?" he snapped at his mother, only feeling slightly bad about it.

Sharon Marsh just shrugged, "It's just so…messy. And perhaps a bit shaggy. Oh dear, I probably should have taken you to get a cut."

"Mo-om. I'm almost eighteen. I can get my own haircuts."

"Obviously you can't, son," his dad, Randy, muttered from the kitchen table, "Otherwise I wouldn't have to be listening to this argument."

"Randy," Stan's mom frowned, a sure warning signal. She was tense today too. After all, it wasn't just Stan's first day of school. It was her first day at her new job, and she wanted to be at her best.

"What?" Randy groaned, "Oh. Okay. Right. Stan, your hair looks fine. Your mom was just nitpicking."

"I was not nitpicking."

"God, you guys, cut it out!" Shelley shrieked, running past them in a blur of color, "Mom, I'm borrowing your car to go sign up at the Community College. Stan, you look like a douchebag, don't listen to dad."

And then she was gone. Stan didn't bother gaping after his older sister the way his mother was. Shelley was always like that nowadays. She was ecstatic about the move, of course. Why wouldn't she be? All her old friends were waiting. Stan could barely remember what his old friends looked like, and he didn't want to.

"Damnit," Sharon cursed, "We needed the car. Randy, we're going to borrow yours."

"How the hell am I supposed to get to work?"

"Take the bus," Stan's mom suggested. Gently, she pushed her son towards the door.

It took fifteen minutes to drive to Park County High, and during the entirety of the drive, Stan was quiet. His mom prattled on about useless things.

As they pulled into the parking lot, she was babbling, "-I told him I wanted a black stove, but of course he picked the house with the white oven already installed, and it doesn't match our refrigerator or the rest of our appliances at all. But you know your father. He says 'Oh, that's okay Sharon. We can paint it black.'"

"You married him," Stan shrugged, unbuckling his seatbelt, "You had to have known he was an idiot."

"Stanley Randall Marsh. Don't call your father an idiot," Sharon retorted without any real venom. She had long ago acknowledged that her husband was a whack job.

They walked towards the steps, only to be cut off by a gaggle of what must have been freshmen girls. Sharon smiled fondly at them, eavesdropping on their inane conversation about lip gloss.

"It's nice to be young."

Stan didn't say anything. He wasn't ready to stop moping and hold an actual conversation yet. The big red brick building of the school loomed over him, and he looked up. There it was. Park County High School. Looming. Fuck.

"Stan, honey. Are you ready to go in?"

He'd never be ready.

* * *

A/N: Yeah. Stan's a bit whiney. Then again, I'd be really whiney if I'd been uprooted right before my senior year of high school too. Luckily I wasn't, so I grew up to be a fully functioning member of society. Otherwise known as a college undergrad. Anyway, next chapter is all Kyle and Kenny with a little Stan thrown in, and I promise he gets less whiney and more interesting as we go along. Please review.


	3. I've Gotta Feel You In My Bones Again

**Never Die**

_Chapter Three: I've Gotta Feel You In My Bones Again_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: I don't know why this story gets updated slower than the rest of them. Probably because it's going to take a few chapters to really get into the main plot, and also I think it's more difficult to write in third- which I find highly amusing, with at least forty six original stories over at fictionpress written in third. Maybe it's just easier to write the SP boys in first…Hmmm. ANYWAY, I digress. Thank you for all the reviews so far, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Kyle was walking through the familiar halls of Park County Regional when he felt the presence behind him. He didn't have to turn to know it was Kenny. The scent of cigarette smoke and gasoline clung to his clothes, forming a noxious cloud that followed him wherever he walked. To Kyle, Kenny's smell was much preferable to the cloying perfume girls wore, and he didn't care that inhalation of too much smoke and gas fumes might eventually kill him. If he died breathing the same air as Kenny, it would be worth it.

The blond fell into step beside him, a twisted grin on his face.

"What did I tell you dude? Change. I smell it in the air," he announced with a satisfied grin on his face.

"I don't see any change," Kyle replied dubiously, antagonizing his friend just for the sake of it. In fact, the school did look slightly different. Over the course of the summer, the faculty had seen fit to appeal the board so that the halls might have a facelift. It consisted of fresh paint and new lockers in a pleasant, impersonal shade of gray rather than the baby puke green metal that had been part of the school since its founding; circa the dark ages.

"You aren't a visionary," Kenny rebuked him, unimpressed, "Unlike me."

"You're a visionary now?" Kyle scoffed, equally unmoved by Kenny's theatrics as the blond was by his own blasé attitude.

Kenny gestured around the halls, "Don't you see it? Everything's different. We own this school."

"Just because you want things to change," Kyle shook his head, "Doesn't mean they have."

The redhead gave Kenny a meaningful look for emphasis. Naturally he ignored it and slapped Kyle on the back, hard, "Stop being such a killjoy, Broflovski."

Kyle subscribed to the idea of taking things slow. He always needed time to adapt to new situations. He hated living life on the edge. Meanwhile, Kenny was the complete opposite. Perhaps this was part of what attracted the two to each other.

"I'll stop when you start acting realistically. Does this year really feel that different than the last one?"

"Fuck, dude. Of course it does. I have power this year," Kenny emphasized the word 'power'. Then, just to prove his point, he cornered a frosh who was clumsily attempting to open one of the new lockers.

"Kid," Kenny narrowed his cerulean eyes dangerously, "That's my locker. Scram."

The freshman opened his mouth to protest, but Kenny slammed his palm hard into the metal behind his head, "I said beat it, cocksucker."

The poor kid squeaked, ducked under Kenny's arm, and raced down the hallway. The blond laughed, dropping his hand to his side, "Did you see that, Kyle? He totally was about to piss his pants!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "And that proved what? That you retain the ability to be a complete and total bully? Good job."

"No, Kyle," Kenny dragged out his friend's name, "It proved that I have power. I'm a king!"

Kyle groaned, "And we're back to that."

"Don't worry. You're a king too, like I said yesterday," he blinked, considering, "Or maybe you can be my consort."

Dryly, the redhead responded, "I'll pass, thanks."

They continued walking down the hall, Kyle adding, "That totally wasn't your locker, was it dude?"

"No," Kenny grinned, stretching his arms over his head, "But I have the power to say it is. Feels good. Feels right."

"Remind me never to put you in charge of a country."

"I'd make an awesome dictator."

"You might even give fatass a run for his money."

"I was that bad?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. Kyle just shrugged and grinned.

Classes passed in a blur. Teachers handed out syllabi, instructing everyone what would be expected of them and how they could successfully pass their time in the hell that was high school. Kenny and Kyle shared a few classes together, but third period wasn't one of them. And it was, after all, in third period that Kyle discovered Kenny might have been right about change.

Their senior class was small. Even combining North Park and South Park into one school had only given them roughly sixty people. When a person's stuck with the same losers over and over again for four years straight, a new face sticks out like a sore thumb. Kyle was sitting in Spanish IV, a class consisting of about ten people, when he noticed the boy with the black hair.

The teacher, a woman with a long, complicated name that prompted most of the students to simply call her Senora, was rambling about her grading policy, even though they'd all had her instructing for four years straight and had it memorized. She didn't even seem to notice the new boy, or take his presence as anything strange.

The students were a different story.

Kyle sat between a girl named Rebecca, who happened to be the president of the student council, and a girl named Wendy, who was head varsity cheerleader. Both enjoyed their own special brand of popularity, and both had been acquaintances of Kyle's since his days at South Park elementary. In essence, that meant that he'd seen both girls in pigtails, braces, and all manner of embarrassing situations. He'd even dated Rebecca on and off for a few years before they decided mutually that their views and opinions conflicted. Particularly their views and opinions on the time Kyle spent with his best friend, whom Rebecca viewed in her typical snotty intellectual fashion as a 'savage ruffian'. Kenny, meanwhile, had avidly tried to convince Kyle during the course of his dating Rebecca that the girl was an 'uptight, anal-retentive prude who needed a lay, but wouldn't ever give it up'. Their combined opinions about each other had lead to the rather amiable breakup.

Frankly, Kyle didn't miss dating her much. She gave awful blowjobs.

"Did you see that new kid?" Rebecca asked him, tilting her glasses down her nose to get a better view, "Isn't that Stan Marsh?"

"Stan?" Kyle's head snapped up, his eyes now trained on the dark haired boy sitting in the front row. From the shape of his head, Kyle couldn't really make out whether it was Stan Marsh or a pumpkin, but that didn't really matter.

"Stan Marsh?" Wendy repeated from his other side, "No. It couldn't be."

Kyle was of a similar opinion. He remembered Stan Marsh, of course. How could he not? Stan had been attached to his hip pretty much since birth. He'd never been so close to another person, perhaps even Kenny. When Stan had moved away in the fifth grade, Kyle had been reduced to tears. In fact, nobody had been able to pry him out of his room for two weeks straight, until Kenny had showed up on his doorstep, clutching an Okama Gamesphere he'd nicked from Eric Cartman's house and a huge grin.

Kenny had been Kyle's surrogate Stan ever since, according to his mom. Kyle thought his mom was full of shit thought; Kenny was not anyone's replacement. How could he be when he was so much more?

Still.

Stan.

Damn.

Even though nearly seven years had passed, Kyle still thought about his old super best friend from time to time. It was hard not to. His mother still kept in touch with Sharon Marsh, so every once in a while he'd hear news of his old friend. Plus there were framed pictures in the hallway of his house from Kyle's childhood. Chances were if Kyle was in a picture, Stan was usually right beside him. They'd been like Siamese twins without an actual physical connection.

"It looks an awful lot like him, Wends," Rebecca muttered across the table, and the two girls converged on Kyle so that he had to back his chair up just so they could converse about whether or not the new boy was in fact an old classmate.

For the most part, Kyle ignored them. His mind was in the past, nostalgic memories bubbling to the forefront of his brain.

Wendy and Rebecca murmured something he missed, but it must have been highly amusing judging by their loud tittering. And that's when the boy with the black hair swiveled around to throw them a nasty look.

* * *

Stan was not having a good day. He did not appreciate his mother's attempts to uproot him and throw him into this new high school hellhole, nor did he appreciate her attempt to make him seem considerably smarter than he actually was. For reasons unknown to him, she'd seen fit to enroll him in advanced Spanish when the extent of his knowledge encompassed the words 'hello' and 'I don't speak Spanish'. This meant of course that the female teacher's lecture was as of yet entirely incomprehensible to him.

It wasn't helping that the two girls in the back were giggling like some sort of hyenas. The one with the shiny black hair was sort of cute, but he'd written her off within moments because of her all too shrill voice. Plus there was something familiar about her that unsettled Stan. He didn't like thinking that he had memories of South Park, mostly because such things would actually tie him to the town. It would mean his mother hadn't uprooted him because he had roots.

Here.

It would mean she was just returning him to them.

The unsettling girl didn't stop him from turning around and glaring at their latest bout of giggling, only to find that a boy was now squeezed between them. He hadn't been there at the beginning of class, or perhaps Stan just hadn't noticed. His observational skills weren't at their optimum presently.

Stan met the redhead's eyes and a shock of recognition rippled through him.

Much as he had thought that he didn't remember anyone or anything from South Park, he remembered this boy. Nobody had hair like Kyle Broflovski; red springy curls that glowed with autumn gold highlights in the September sun that filtered through the murky classroom windows.

He was struck by a wash of childhood memories that had been lost to him; building a tree house, ice skating at Stark's Pond, and endless nights of sleepovers. The memories were from a once upon a time era when Stan would tell Kyle his every secret. He was the one person in the world good enough, high enough in Stan's esteem that he was somehow worthy of remembrance.

Of course that had been a very long time ago. A year was a long time in Stan's regard, and he hadn't seen Kyle in a number of them. Stan doubted that Kyle even remembered him, and if he did, no way would he recognize…

"Stan? Stan Marsh, right?" Kyle exclaimed, his green eyes lighting up like a 'go' signal. Stan realized that class had ended; all the while he'd been deep inside his own recollections. Weak.

"Uh. Yeah," Stan mumbled with some surprise, "You're Kyle, right?"

"Dude, you remember!" Kyle smiled, and Stan wondered how he could have forgotten a crooked, brilliant smile like his.

"H'yeah," Stan returned the smile somewhat less enthusiastically, not because he wasn't happy, but because he'd always felt sort of awkward about meeting old friends. Especially friends he'd never thought he would see again.

Ever.

"What the hell are you doing back in South Park, anyway?" Kyle asked in a friendly voice. He waited for Stan to gather up his books, and then fell into step beside him in the hallway.

"My mom got a new job," Stan explained, "Plus my grandpa's in that nursing home up on the mountain crest. It's important to be close to family, or something gay like that."

Kyle grinned, "So you're here for good?"

"Yeah. We moved around the corner from my old place."

"Really? That means you're like right down the street from me!"

"Sweet, dude," Stan smiled weakly, not sure what that meant. Was Kyle just being nice, or was he looking to rekindle an old friendship? And why was he over thinking this?

"You have got to come over. My mom will be mad excited. Wait, I bet she probably already knows. She's kept in touch with your mom all this time…" Kyle trailed off, noting the surprise in Stan's cobalt eyes. He probably hadn't known their mothers still talked to each other. Wisely, he changed the subject, "Um, so what's your place like?"

"My new house smells vaguely like cat," Stan told him, his lips quirking into a smile. Kyle observed that he had a really great smile.

"Bet that drives Sparky crazy," the redhead grinned, remembering Stan's old dog out of the blue. Unfortunately, his expression wasn't mirrored by Stan.

"Um, Sparky died two years ago."

"Oh. Dude. I'm sorry. I didn't…dude."

"No big," Stan shrugged, black hair falling into his eyes, "You didn't know."

"Still. Sucks," Kyle told him.

"Yeah, it does," Stan agreed.

"What class do you have next?"

"No class. Lunch, I think," the dark haired boy dug around in his jeans pocket for a crumpled schedule. He scanned it for a second and then said, "Yeah. Lunch."

"Cool. Me too. Come sit with us. I want you to meet everyone, all over again."

Forcing a happy look onto his face, Stan followed Kyle towards the cafeteria. He wasn't sure if he was ready to meet everyone again. But it didn't look as though he had much choice.

* * *

A/N: I have deep loathing for this chapter. It's not filler, but it feels like it is. I'm not a fan, but please tell me what you guys think. It'll get more interesting, promise! Review!


	4. While Runnin' From The Rain

**Never Die**

_Chapter Four: While Runnin' From The Rain_

By: Jondy Macmillan

* * *

Kyle lead Stan into the cafeteria, proud, like he'd discovered the best new thing ever. Which he kind of had. Kyle Broflovski wasn't exactly a trend setter. Times when he knew something before anyone else were few and far between. Kenny would be amazed.

Except Kenny wasn't at lunch.

Kyle frowned, sliding into his usual seat across from Cartman. Stan sat impassively next to him, examining the fat boy with scientific interest. He hadn't thought it was possible for a human to achieve the size and stature of a baby whale, but that seemed to be Eric Cartman's goal. And there was no doubt in Stan's mind that this was Eric Cartman, neo-Nazi and businessman extraordinaire. Even if he had tried to forget; Cartman's face was still used prominently in Cartmanland commercials, despite the fact the amusement park had been sold to different owners. Stan had even gone to it once or twice, with friend and with The Girl. The Girl he would have been dating had his parents not bogarted his chance at having the best senior year ever.

Both Kyle and Stan had filled their trays with chimichangas dripping meat and green peppers like explosive diarrhea across their plates. Neither had much of an appetite.

"Aye, Jew. Who's your faggy little friend?" Cartman demanded through a mouthful of thoroughly chewed chicken parm. The stuff tasted like rubber, but Cartman ate it with religious ceremony. In the end it didn't matter either way. All the food at Park County Regional tasted like crap.

"Stan Marsh," Kyle said back with a certain amount of self-importance. Stan blinked. He wasn't sure why Kyle seemed to think meeting him again was the greatest thing since sliced bread, but then again, he supposed he was happy to find that he already had one built in friend in the school. He wasn't a fan of starting from scratch.

"Holy fuck," Cartman's mouth gaped open, revealing the pink-brown wad of half consumed chicken, "You're shittin' me, Jew."

"Nope," Kyle grinned.

"Hi," Stan said, stabbing at his chimichanga idly.

"Dude. Where the hell did you get off to?" Cartman questioned, "Your parents like usurped you off to West Bumblefuck last I heard."

"I-"

Stan was cut off when a boy with black hair slid onto the bench next to Cartman, saying, "Dude, where the fuck's McCormick? Now I have to sit next to you and your rancid BO."

"Aye! I do not have BO," Cartman exclaimed in an indignant voice, "Tucker, you ass rammer."

The black haired boy ignored Cartman and turned to Stan, "Hey. You're new. I'm Craig."

He extended a hand across the table, which Stan took, "Stan."

Craig's eyes widened, "Damn. Didn't you used to go to school here?"

"Til fifth grade," Stan affirmed.

"Wait a second. I remember you," Craig accused, "You're the douche that took me to Peru."

Stan vaguely remembered going to Peru. Weren't there giant guinea pigs involved? His memory was useless. Some things stood out so clear, but other things were vague and hazy.

"Uh. I think Kyle had something to do with that," Stan muttered, shifting the blame.

Kyle shook his head, "Oh no. It was definitely you, Stan."

"We all wanted to start the damned pan-flute band," Cartman groaned, "Stop talking about fourth grade, you losers. Kyle, this is why you never get any pusseh."

"Like you do, Megamouth," Kyle rolled his eyes, "And where is Kenny?"

"Po'Boy's on the track. Where else does that white trash asshole go? It's not like anyone will blow him after he gave Red the clap."

Okay. Stan definitely remembered Kenny McCormick. He thought. Maybe.

He'd given some girl the clap? That was kind of gross.

Then again, it was kind of cool too. None of his friends back home had gotten around enough to give a girl anything, much less contract venereal diseases.

An image of a little boy bundled in an orange parka flashed in his head. His mom had this whole photo album full of pictures, and that little boy was in a lot of them. It was Kenny. Stan was sure. It was weird how these people had been so important to him once, and in only seven years his remembrances had been reduced to flashes and images like an abstract collage.

"So Marsh," Craig inserted, "What are you doing back in South Park?"

"I-"

Stan once again tried to get a sentence in, but he was interrupted by a brown haired boy sitting next to Craig. Craig immediately turned and launched into an avid discussion about some TV show with the boy, who Kyle told Stan was Clyde Donovan.

Five seconds later, the girl with the familiar dark hair sat at their table too.

"Stan, hi," she said in a breathy voice.

"Uh. Hi."

"That's Wendy," Kyle hissed in his ear, "Your old girlfriend."

Oh. So that was why she was familiar. Yeah. Wendy. She wasn't as pretty as The Girl, but she had nice tilted doe eyes and a gorgeous smile.

"Hi."

Wendy started asking him questions so fast she could have been using a shotgun to deliver them, and Stan barely had time to answer a single one. The only thing that kept him grounded was Kyle's presence next to him. He hated this school. He hated all these half-remembered people.

But he couldn't deny that he liked having Kyle next to him.

* * *

Kyle frowned. Kenny had started running track their freshman year. It had surprised everyone; Kenny had never been one for athletics before. The only time he participated in gym during middle school had been during dodgeball, and that was mostly because it was the only time he could get revenge on Cartman for all the ridicule the fat boy delivered. Kenny's sudden interest in the sport wasn't the only thing that had shocked people. No, the biggest surprise had been that he was good at it. Kenny ran like the devil was at his heels. He had a graceful wolf lope, like some young god of the wind.

Kyle had been the only one who wasn't stunned at all. He knew Kenny was fast. Kenny had to be fast. He had so many things he had to outrun.

Lately it was getting out of hand. Track didn't start until spring, but here it was early autumn, and Kenny was jogging around the muddy field. He'd been at it for a while if the state of his sweaty clothes was any indication.

"Dude," Kyle called, "Why weren't you at lunch?"

Kenny paused at his best friend's voice, nearly stumbling over the sloppy dirt. He slowed into a walk, letting his muscles cool down before he actually answered Kyle's question.

"I needed to fly," Kenny grinned.

"Classes suck that bad already?"

The blond boy shrugged, his baby blues dancing, "For kings, they really try to weigh us down."

"We've got to impress the colleges."

"You've got to impress them," Kenny informed the green eyed boy.

"You do too. We're going to the same school," Kyle said in a firm voice, "That's the plan."

Kenny's lips twisted in delight, "Yep. That's the plan."

He hadn't been sure that Kyle still wanted to keep to the plan, was all. They'd been claiming they wanted to go to the same university ever since becoming surgically attached at the hip. The only problem was Kyle was a freaking genius, and while Kenny had experienced a few idiot savant moments, his grades had a tendency towards being less than stellar. Sometimes he thought maybe Kyle would be better off applying to Harvard and getting out of their hick town while he still stood a chance. Kenny didn't want to be the thing that held him back from going Ivy League. He was hoping for a track scholarship, but he doubted any first division schools would end up recruiting his way. Kyle always said he didn't care where he went, as long as they ended up together. Sheila and Gerald Broflovski, of course, hadn't been clued into their son's opinion on the matter as of yet, so there was always wiggle room for Kyle's decision to change. Kenny kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and Kyle to change his mind.

Apparently that time hadn't yet come.

"So what'd I miss at lunch?"

"Cartman being a bigoted asshole, as usual. I wish he'd just come out of the closet already. At least if he had a mouth full of dick, he wouldn't be able to talk."

"I dunno," Kenny peered up at the clouds, hiding the mischief in his cerulean gaze, "Cartman's mouth is pretty damned big."

"True. Remember that time he jammed three big macs in there at once?"

"I remember him barfing all over the table."

Kyle made a face of disgust, "All over my lunch."

"It was classic, man."

"Lardass is never going to change, is he?"

"I think it would freak you out if he did. Twilight Zone," Kenny waggled his fingers in the air.

"Speaking of, um, you'll never guess what else happened."

"Did Bebe flash the lunch ladies? Please tell me I did not miss that. Dude!"

"No, fucktard. Stan's back."

Kenny's stomach dropped. He had to have heard wrong. Kyle had said Dan's slack, or man's lack, or anything other than the two words he'd heard.

The blond choked out, "Wha-what did you say?"

Kyle blinked, slowly enunciating, "I said, Stan's back."

Kenny had thought the first day of senior year meant change. He had thought the change would be good…would be what he'd been secretly waiting for. Now, staring at Kyle, he saw that dream going down the drain. Stan Marsh was back.

And he was going to ruin everything.

* * *

A/N: Slow going, I know. I guess it may seem strange to some of you how Stan barely remembers some people- but I moved from California to New Jersey when I was ten, and by the time I was seventeen, I only remembered a few people's names that I had known, and maybe a few things I'd done; a story or two. And some of it was because I got to go back and visit a lot. Anyway…hopefully this will start to pick up soon. Kyle and Stan are going to bond, and then I think Kenny's going to meet Stan next chapter, which should be interesting. Please review!


	5. I'll Be Back When The World Stops Turnin

**Never Die**

_Chapter Five: I'll Be Back When The World Stops Turnin'_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Guys! This isn't for sure going to be style! Don't make your judgments yet. Because I have no idea what the end result could be. It's k/s/k, including the dreaded Stan/Kenny (dreaded for me. I'm not a fan). It will not end in Stan/Kenny, but it will exist. But as to whether the end is style or k squared, I'm clueless. That's half the fun.

* * *

Kenny McCormick had known deprivation. For more than two thirds of his life, he'd been poor, courtesy of an alcoholic father and a mother who never aspired to be more than a housewife. When his dad finally found a job that he managed to keep, it was some kind of miracle. When his mom finally decided to do something productive with her life, like taking a pottery class, it was a small blessing. His house went from a shithole to a decent looking house on the wrong side of the tracks. They weren't by any means rich, or even well off, but for the first time ever, Kenny's family could live comfortably.

In school, he'd never done all that well, but the day Stan Marsh disappeared, he gained a second brain. Kyle Broflovski had always been a friend, but upon Stan's departure, he became a best friend. Suddenly Kenny had a built in study buddy, not to mention a standing date every Friday night, that is, when he didn't have a date with a girl. Even though he'd had friends before, Kenny hadn't realized that this is what best friends did. The closest he'd experienced to best friendom previously had been Eric Cartman, who by all accounts was more dictator than companion. Kyle showed him what it meant to belong, to have inside jokes and to ally with when things got tough.

Of course, all that had been before he began to feel something more, something ethereal and unexplainable between him and Kyle. At first he thought it the feeling was transient. He would have been okay with that; an evanescent, ephemeral emotion that would disappear in a month or two. In fact, it was for that reason that he decided to savor it. Then, a year had passed and he realized; he was still relishing the feeling, the insubstantial notion that became something more. He would look at Kyle and see his future, and it was fucking scary, in a way, but it was some kind of incredible too. Kenny started making plans, thinking about the college they'd go to together, and the apartment they'd get together, and eventually the jobs they'd get together. It got so he couldn't see his life without Kyle.

Stan Marsh leaving was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

That's what he told Lola during fifth period, anyway.

"Oh my lord," she groaned in reply, "Please tell me we're not going to go through one of your jealous streaks again."

Lola had been Kenny's partner in their physics class the year before. She'd put up with him pitching a fit over this and that for an entire year, and now she considered herself a Kenny expert. She could chronicle the four month period last year when Kyle started dating her friend Mandy like she'd lived it herself. She could explain Kenny's neurotic break during the junior prom when Kyle had spent a month attempting to woo Wendy Testaburger; a mistake if there ever had been one. Hell, Lola could even recite word for word the birthday card that Kenny had written for Kyle the year prior.

It was all rather quaint when one considered that Kenny hated Lola. If he'd been asked, he never would have been able to tell a soul why he thought confiding in a girl he loathed was a good idea. Perhaps it was all the long nights of studying they'd done, or perhaps it was because she had a reputation for being reticent when it came to secrets, despite her hard hitting reporter role on the school newspaper. Perhaps it was even because she was a 'popular girl' being a part of the posse co-captained by Bebe Stevens and Wendy, all of whom he'd known since grade school. Whatever it was, he would never be able to pin down the wraithlike certainty he had that Lola was the person to tell his secrets; at least the ones concerning Kyle.

He would, on the other hand, be able to illustrate all the reasons why he thought Lola was a bad person. He considered her a haughty tart that was far too clever for his own good, which was actually a common theme with all the girls who had graduated from South Park Elementary School. Sometimes he had to theorize that Mr. Garrison, their teacher and mentor, had taught the females more than he'd let on with his discussions on the latest celebrity gossip and his monologues on his own sexuality.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kenny crossed his arms, glaring hard at her.

She glared right on back, "Well, Kenneth. You freak every time an ounce of competition shows up for Kyle's affections. Maybe if you just fessed up and told him how you feel, you wouldn't have to worry. I've heard Broflovski's a loyal guy."

"Where did you hear that?" Kenny asked, panicked, sure that Lola knew something of Kyle's illicit relations that he didn't.

She rolled her eyes, and said, "Just tell him, idiot."

"Don't you think I haven't thought of that?" Kenny demanded, not caring that the teacher was giving him a rather dirty look.

"No. Thought hadn't crossed my mind," Lola smirked, pretending to write down an interesting thought on classical literature. She never got in trouble with the teachers, an ability Kenny had yet to master, even in his senior year.

"Well I have, okay? But if I tell him, then it's like…he'll win."

"He'll…win?" Lola frowned. He could not be saying what she thought he was saying. If so, he was a bigger idiot than she'd initially thought.

"Yeah. Look, I know- I mean, I think I know, but I could be wrong- but I hope, anyway, that K- he, I mean, that he likes me back. If I tell him, it'll be like forcing him, and I don't want to force him. Ever. I want to earn his…affections, or whatever the fuck you called it."

"Mr. McCormick!" the teacher snapped, "Do you think you'd like to share your conversation with the rest of the class?"

Lola smirked, thinking it would be hilarious if Kenny just came out with it and admitted to the entire class that he was jonesing for his best friend. The day could use some livening up.

"Yeah. I was thinkin' I found a funny spot on my dick, and askin' Lola here if it might be gonorrhea. I figured she has experience with STDs an' all."

"Kenny!" the girl shrieked in reply. He was such a bastard.

Instead of dealing with the situation like a real educator might, the teacher turned back to the chalkboard and began extolling the virtues of some long dead writer. There was nothing quite like the Park County Regional academic system.

Kenny turned back towards Lola, who was glaring hatefully at him. She hissed, "I do not have STD's you asshole!"

"Really? I would've thought you'd collected at least one what with all the face time you have with boys behind the bleachers."

The girl bristled, turning away. It wasn't her fault anyway. With her long hair and intelligent eyes, she was a catch among the male half of the student population. That's what Wendy told her when she was feeling particularly low and couldn't score a date, anyway, and Lola had a feeling she'd be enjoying some serious phone time with Miss Testaburger tonight. It was days like these when she didn't know why she even tolerated Kenny, much listened to his problems or tried to help. Maybe she'd understand if he was a normal human being, but he was obviously some kind of alien reject.

"Come on, Lolita," he tugged at her arm, giving her a childish nickname, "You're supposed to be helping me."

"No," she cast him a murderous look, "Talk to someone else. Talk to Bebe."

Kenny made a face. He'd dated Bebe Stevens all throughout their freshman year. No way would he ever tell anything to that bitch.

Lola sighed, "Fine. You know what I think you should do? Find Stan, after school. You haven't even seen him yet, right? Maybe he has no interest in Kyle. I mean as a friend; you can't presume he's a sick pervert like you."

Kenny bit his lip, thinking it over, "You think? I guess you could be right. Or even better, he could be a total dork. He could be hideous now!"

"Sure. There's that," Lola muttered. Boys. They were such morons.

"Right. So the first order of business is seeing Stan after school!" Kenny said. He was cheered by the thought.

* * *

Unfortunately, Stan Marsh was not hideous. He was tall and broad shouldered, and every inch a jock. He looked exactly like Kenny remembered him, except older, and more attractive. His dark hair fell in all the right places, and his dark blue eyes were mysterious and charming. Kenny hated him immediately.

"Hi," Stan said, squinting, like that would make him recall who Kenny was. Douchebag. Kenny remembered him just fine; but that was largely because he'd been such a huge factor in the blond's life.

Kyle, who was mediating the meeting, grinned, "I don't suppose you remember a kid running around in an orange parka when we were younger?"

Stan's face screwed up, and he seemed to be thinking hard, "Wait. There was that one kid, who always died? You're that one?"

Oh sure, Kenny thought, he had to bring up the dying thing. At one point, dying had felt like the only thing Kenny was good at.

Kyle nodded enthusiastically, "See? You haven't forgotten everything."

Stan shrugged, seeming less keen on the idea of childhood recollections.

"How've you been, man," he greeted Kenny again, "Long time, no see."

I suppose you think that's clever, Kenny wanted to say. Instead he replied, "Yeah, guess so. I've been good. You?"

Stan shrugged again, choosing noncommittal. Kyle acted like he'd just done the funniest thing ever, chuckling and patting him on the back and acting like Stan was God's gift to man. Kenny wanted to murder them both.

"So, Ken," Kyle practically chirped, and it was sickening, "We were thinking about going to Shakey's. Want to come?"

Of course he wanted to come. He'd been spending every day after school with Kyle since the end of fifth grade. Why would that change now?  
Kenny shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "Sure."

They took Kyle's car, because Stan had been driven by his parents and Kenny didn't own one yet. Kyle spent the entire time playing the do-you-remember game, asking Stan if he could mentally picture their clubhouse, their favorite TV show, and everything else they'd done, watched, ate, and laughed about seven years ago.

Thankfully, the game was discontinued when they reached Shakey's. Kenny didn't think his sanity could stand any more of Kyle's attempts to ingratiate himself with Stan fucking Marsh.

They ordered a cheese pie, because Stan wanted pepperoni, and Kenny didn't want anything that Stan wanted, so he tried for onions, and Kyle hated onions, and eventually it turned out cheese was the only thing they could agree on.

"This place hasn't changed. At all," Stan sighed.

Kenny gave him a 'duh' look, "It's a Shakey's, dude. It's a chain."

"I meant South Park," the dark haired boy clarified, "I mean, it all looks different to me, but it feels the same."

"You're lucky you go to live anywhere else. Kenny and I have been theorizing that it's like the fucking Hotel California. You never get to leave."

"What about college?" Stan took a huge bit of his pizza, "You guys will leave for college, right?"

Kyle glanced down, "Only to Boulder."

"What? Why only Boulder? Don't get me wrong, it's a great place, but dude, aren't you like, a genius? Shouldn't you be applying to Harvard or Brown or something?"

"Kyle's going to the same school I am," Kenny interrupted.

"Why?" Stan gave him a strange look, "Are you dating, or something?"

"Sick, dude!" Kyle exclaimed, spewing coke all over the table. Kenny winced. What the hell was sick about them being together?

"No. We're best friends," he retorted, unable to keep the pride from creeping into his voice.

"Okay. So why can't you be best friends at different schools?" Stan asked reasonably.

Kyle's eyes flicked upward, "I want to go where Kenny goes. That's our plan."

"You're seventeen, and you already have plans? I was wrong. You're not dating. You're married," Stan emphasized the 'married' bit, his eyes widening.

Quiet, so quiet that they nearly missed it, Kyle murmured, "I never thought of it that way."

Kenny nearly choked on his pizza. He wouldn't be deprived of Kyle. He couldn't.

Something had to be done.

* * *

A/N: Stan's character is still kind of shallow, I know. He'll get deeper and less hate-able as the story goes on, I think. Please review!


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